


Mea Culpa, Mea Maxima Culpa

by TheClockworkAngel



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alcohol, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 08:13:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1380394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheClockworkAngel/pseuds/TheClockworkAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years after Ciel is reborn as a demon, Sebastian considers his role in the transformation of his and his young master's lives. And when Ciel is a child of darkness and brooding, Sebastian is there to bring him the light he'd long forgotten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mea Culpa, Mea Maxima Culpa

I can only stare at you, young master. I watch as your delicate, slender legs are draped over the arms of the throne you rest in. Your black-clad fingernails adorn long, slender, delicate fingers, which in turn, wrap beautifully around a goblet of red wine. You have long since forgotten about your imaginary tea, instead, turning to darker substances to reflect your demonic personality. My eyes travel from your hands and your legs up to your tiny chest, covered with a blood-colored, silk shirt and black silk vest. I watch your slow, steady breathing, remembering once how those same lungs used to grapple for air during one of your asthma attacks of the past. But, that is behind us now…..

My eyes move from your chest to your slender, porcelain neck, followed by your perfect, doll-like face. Your bright blue eyes are now shadowed by pain and loss of child-like innocence, giving you a tortured, possessed appearance. The shadows around your eyes and the shadows in your irises are really a deep match, sir. Though at the time, I had hoped of devouring your soul, but I must admit, when Drocell craved to make you into one of his dolls, I secretly wanted him to wrap you in a box and allow me to have you for myself. I have served humans for centuries, and you are the most stunning by far.

As I look at the beautiful, dark creature you've become, I remember the bastards that condemned you to this fate….myself included. I was so overtaken by your soul, so obsessed with displaying my demonic dominance against that Claude Faustus, I forgot everything we had gone through together. I forgot about the times you asked me to stay with you at night, the times you fell asleep in my strong arms, and the times you cried against my shoulder. I was the only person allowed to see your weaknesses. I was the only person permitted to touch you. That was all forgotten in the heat of battle.

I will admit, in the beginning, when you were a baby demon, I blamed you. I hated you. I thought of the blackest oaths I could and applied them to you daily. But, one night, I snuck into your room in our shared, abandoned mansion, and watched as you bit your wrist, and sat watching the blood trail down your naked arm. I watched as you cried when you saw the wound healing, and the blood disappearing. I realized then that you wanted this no more than I did. As a raped and scarred child, you had wanted to die, even during our time together as master and servant. The impact of you living forever not only affected me, but you as well. You would never get your "eternal peace," as most humans believe. Instead, you must hide in the shadows and the darkness, forever beautiful, forever young, and forever tormented by your past. It was then that I vowed I would give you a reason for living forever.

After that night, all I could think about when I thought of you was what I had done to you. Not what Claude, Alois, and Hannah had done, but what I myself had done. I condemned you to this eternal life, I treated you inhumanly. And now when you slap me and punish me, I like it, for it feels as if I am paying for my crimes against you. You refuse to talk to me. You refuse to utter a sound. You just glare and brood, alone, locked away in the recesses of your mind. I don't dare speak to you. I don't know why, I just don't try.

I watch as you stir from your gloomy state, resting your goblet on the small table next to the chair. Without a word, you stand and walk to the large, gothic windows, and look down at the land below and around the mansion. I don't move, but am content just to watch your stillness, your lack of life. I remain there for hours on end, watching as you ponder things unknown to me, things hidden from me. I don't move until I hear the large, grandfather clock strike ten, and I rise to escort you to your large bedroom. Though demons don't need sleep, I go along with your charade, knowing that it gives you a sense of normalcy.

As you shed your dark clothing for a dark, silk robe, preparing for your nightly bath, I hesitantly take your shoulder. I know that you no longer allow me to touch you, but I can feel that tonight is different. Apparently, you feel the same, as you don't pull away. Oh, how I missed the contours of your tiny body. The slim, delicate, light bones that protrude where they shouldn't feel so normal against my anxious fingers. I slowly turn you around so you are facing me. I look into your fathomless gaze, and slowly allow my hand to stroke the soft skin of your cheek. Just before your eyes close, I see a twinkle in them I had nearly forgotten. With more confidence, I pick you up like a small child and carry you, princess-style, to your warm bath.

It is half-past eleven by the time you are adorned in your nightshirt and wrapped up in the blankets of your bed. As I turn from your bed and take the candle in hand, preparing to leave quietly, I feel your small, cool hand tug at the hem of my vest. I turn slowly, seeing that the twinkle in your eyes is still present, and hear something I had not heard in the five years since your transformation: "Stay with me, Sebastian." The sound of your voice is like music to my ears. Amazingly, you have not spoken a word in the few years since you became a child of the night. After five years, I had missed your quiet murmurs. I turn to you, and for the first time since my creation, give an honest, loving smile. Not a smile of lust or craving. Not a smile designated towards someone who would soon satisfy your belly. But a smile given to someone loved by another. And for the first time since I met you, you give me a loving, honest smile back.

I take your little hand in my big one, and I slowly take my shoes off and leave them by the edge of the bed. I swiftly make my way to the other side of the bed and crawl on top of the comforter. You look at me with big, curious eyes. "Will you teach me to hunt tomorrow night?" You sound like the child I never thought you could be. And I, not only yearning for a hunt myself, but also taken by your innocent face, am forced to nod and smile. I watch as you shiver with excitement and hunger, your eyes flashing a bright pink-red. I slowly bend down and touch a light kiss to the top of your forehead, pledging that I will be the father you lost almost a decade ago.

"Yes, little one."


End file.
